Shadowlands
by Lothiriel84
Summary: Patrick Jane couldn't defeat Death, and yet he had to try; or die in the attempt. AU.


Many were his names in many countries; most people called him Red John, and he was content.

Only a few selected individuals knew about his true nature; those were either his acolytes, or members of the very restricted group of people born with the gift of the Sight.

The Sight was both a blessing and a curse to the men and women who possessed it; for it allowed them to see the Unseen, walk side by side with the Shadows of those that had long passed away. To them the two worlds were separated only by their closed eyelids, and that was one of the reasons why they rarely got a proper night's rest.

Though the Dead lived in a cold and dreary landscape, it was too much of a temptation for the living to choose the company of those they had lost over their fellow mortal beings. That was exactly how Patrick Jane spent the better part of his time, as he stretched on his battered leather coach in a corner of the bullpen.

His colleagues had no idea that every time he closed his eyes he was reunited with his late family; Charlotte and Angela seldom spoke to him, they just sat in silence with their heads bowed and a sad look written all over their features. However, he got to see them at the very least; and while it was a poor excuse for a life together, it was still better than being forever parted.

No matter how that was slowly killing him.

He still had some unfinished with 'Red John'; for he refused to call him by his real name, even though he'd stolen away his family far before their time. That was why he lingered among the living instead of joining his wife and child in their bleary surroundings.

Patrick Jane couldn't defeat Death, and yet he had to try; or die in the attempt.

xxx

It came as a surprise when he discovered that his deadly enemy had indulged in something as mundane as carnal pleasures. Rosalind Harker was blind but the eyes of her mind could see clearly enough, and not even for a moment she'd been afraid of the stranger that one fine day had knocked to her door and ended up straight into her bed.

"Roy cares for me," she said, and Jane felt a wave of nausea rush through him.

He wasn't afraid of Death either, but he couldn't bear the thought of him being intimate with any human being. Later that night he sought refuge in his empty Malibu home, counting each of his breaths until weariness finally prompted him to shut his eyes.

"Did he touch you?" he asked Angela as soon as she materialized in front of him. "Did he dare to lay his hand on our daughter?"

His wife didn't answer, only wrapped her arms further around their little girl. Something shattered inside Jane's chest, and if only Red John could be killed then he would be glad to do it with his own hands.

xxx

That wasn't the first time he'd come so close to Death; but Death always seemed to elude him, laughing at him as he slipped right through his fingers.

Red John had saved his life, which sounded more than a little ironic; a life of endless suffering was a far worse punishment than being dead, guilt and regret the constant companions of his waking life as well as the shallow hours he spent with his beloved ones.

His nemesis had also confirmed the fact that he'd indeed come after Kristina Frye. The woman shared the same gift which was now the unbearable burden of Jane's life, but that had moved her to offer a hand of friendship to Death himself rather than defying him like Patrick had once done.

However, the result had been pretty much the same; Red John hated pity almost as much as he hated being slandered, and Kristina would have to pay the price.

It wasn't long before they eventually found her, dead in everything but in name. Curiously enough she now thought she already belonged to the world of Shadows, and nothing they did could convince her otherwise.

That was the ultimate punishment, blurring the line between the two worlds; Jane stared at her with pity and horror for an endless moment before blowing out the candle, therefore ending the brief connection he'd established with her.

"It's not your fault, Dad," Charlotte whispered softly when he closed his eyes in defeat, and he marveled at hearing her voice for the first time ever since her death.

xxx

Red John was more elusive than the Shadows and the empty Land they haunted. He'd slipped right through Jane's fingers once again, though Death had had to welcome two of his minions before the day was done.

Craig O'Laughlin. Timothy Carter. Both had met Death with the hint of a smile playing at the corner of their mouth, leaving everybody around them to wonder.

Not Patrick Jane though; he knew the truth, and while he was well aware that he was pursuing a goal that was far beyond his reach that wasn't enough to stop him.

No matter that his friend kept begging him to let go of his obsession, he simply couldn't do it. Dear old Lisbon, she had no idea that he saw the pale faces of his wife and child every single time he shut his eyes; and they weren't just pictures of his mind.

He almost wished on occasion that he could actually turn off the cursed Sight; that his family was truly gone, so that he could move on at length.

Since he had no power to do it, all that was left to him was the deadly game he kept on playing with his nemesis; until Death would eventually grew tired and allow him to step over his threshold at last.

xxx

One of their murder suspects almost drowned him, and for a moment there he thought he was going to be reunited with his family. He saw the light at the end of the tunnel, but then he was roughly pulled back and woke up to find Lisbon looking anxiously over him.

(He didn't recognize her at once though, his mind still wandering down dark paths in the land of Shadows. It was one of the Dead that led him back to his reality, a woman that had the same green eyes as those that were staring down at him in worry.)

Then Death reached up to him once again. As soon as he caught the first glimpse of Lorelei Martins Jane knew that she was Red John's mistress – _la Belle Dame sans Merci_ if there ever was one.

He lay down in her arms, pretending he'd given in to her charms; he wished he could shut his eyes to the pleasure written all over her features, but that would mean facing his wife and child and that was exactly the one thing he had to avoid at this moment in time.

Later on she delivered a message from her master. Red John was offering him his heart's desire, but that would come at the highest price of all.

Teresa Lisbon's life.

"Your friend drives a hard bargain," he said to the dark-eyed temptress. "He knows I can't accept such a deal."

Lorelei curled her lips in a wistful smile, as if she really cared; then she took his hand and looked him straight in the eyes.

"There's another way, Patrick. I could help you."

He closed his eyes briefly, and saw a young woman he didn't know; a woman that resembled closely the one that was sitting across the table from him.

That was what finally prompted him to say yes.

Lorelei clutched onto his hand as she kissed him one last time and offered him the cup whose bitterness he'd been craving all along.

When he opened his eyes again he was sitting right beside his wife and child. Angela gave him a sad smile, while little Charlotte rested her golden head in his lap.

Now he was free from the burden of living in two worlds at once, and he almost laughed at the thought that he'd managed to fool Death at last. Red John couldn't tear them apart anymore, and that was all that mattered.

However, the heart that was now resting silent in the middle of his chest sank a little when the familiar silhouette of his friend appeared through the mist. He'd never though that Lisbon possessed the Sight, but then he'd always been aware that she was only translucent to him.

His head dropped ever so slightly, and he couldn't bear the sadness that was clearly written in her eyes.

"I'm sorry," he said; and if the Shadows could cry, that was exactly what he would do right now.


End file.
